Persuasion

The double doors sprung open and I stepped out of the cold and into the bleak fluorescent wasteland of my local supermarket. Selecting a basket from the towers by the door, I walked through the checkouts, pausing to survey Abigail - the glowing radiant centre of the store. At 20, she was two years younger than I was and had a body that looked too good to be caressed by her drab uniform. She had full, ripe breasts and a slender waist. Her lips were a pale olive, matching her complexion. She had long, obsidian hair. Perfect black eyebrows surrounded her mischievous, dark eyes. Those eyes caught mine now and her full lips broke into a pleased smile.

We had been playfully flirting for the last few weeks, ever since we met in the store. Like me, she was a student so she worked the late shift from five until midnight. I usually went shopping around eight or nine, avoiding the queues and occasionally finding some reduced item worth having. We had begun innocently enough - smiling at each other, mildly amusing jokes about generalities. When she handed back my credit card, my fingers would "accidentally" brush hers. Then, the last time I was in, the top three buttons of her shirt had been undone and when I leant over to sign my name - and some more of money away - on the dotted line, she had leant forward, cupping her arms above her belly. Perfectly framed by the translucent plastic stand where the receipt rested were the tops of her magnificent breasts, forced to prominence by her arms. I could see the smooth flesh disappearing into a plain green bra. I had been about to ask for her number when a supervisor came up. Abigail had sat back hurriedly, redoing the buttons on her shirt, "Can you take these receipts to finance straight away? I'll finish helping this gentleman."

Still, I was flattered that she had actively put on the show for me. Abigail gave me a sad smile from the corner of her mouth and slinked off, her hips moving with smooth muscular grace that even the unflattering trousers couldn't spoil. She looked back, caught me checking out her ass, and broke into a broad grin. The mousy, overweight supervisor brusquely took the receipt and spent an inordinate time checking that the signature on it matched my card. I watched Abigail until she disappeared among the aisles.

I walked through Abigail's till, winking at her and flashing her my best smile. There was no customer with her at the moment so I stopped. "What's your favourite meal, darling?"

"Mmm," her eyes became distant as she thought and, consciously or not, a small pink tongue darted out of her mouth and ran slowly over her olive lips, making them glisten. I felt an almost uncontrollable need to kiss them, mingle my unworthy saliva with hers. At the thought, I could feel a preparatory rush to my groin - not arousal, but anticipation, adrenaline. She squinted up at me, silhouetted by the fluorescent lights. "Tagliatelle, I suppose." She had a refined voice, no trace of an accent, just perfectly formed syllables combined to bring a beauty to the English language inconceivable to one who had not heard her speak it. "Just wanted to know what to buy for our meal tomorrow night. Tomorrow's your night off, right?"

Perhaps I sounded confident, but my heart had stopped, my arms were water, and holding the basket was now a matter of luck or perhaps intervention by a helpful God.

She grinned at me, and my blood started flowing again. "Perfect." I gave her my address and directions and we agreed a time. I grinned back at her and turned to start my shopping. I felt her hand on my elbow, electric. Even through my jacket I could feel the delicate pressure of that hand and I was unbelievably aroused by even that mild a contact.

A frown crossed her brow. On anyone else it would mar it, but seemingly nothing could spoil her for me. "I never do this," she said.

"Me either," I replied. "Would you prefer if we went out to eat?"

She evaluated me, her eyes registering how unlike a serial killer I looked, taking in the normal white T-shirt stretched across my broad chest, the plain blue fleece jacket, the plain blue jeans gripping my ass and legs. Her gaze lingered on my crotch for a moment, and I felt my cock stirring. She realised what she was doing and looked up quickly, her dark eyes meeting my pale blue ones, her olive cheeks slightly flushed. She held my gaze for a second then, satisfied, "No, I think I can count on you."

Her hand still gripped my arm. A smile flashed onto my face and, surprising even myself, I grabbed her hand, pulled it to my lips and quickly kissed it. "You can trust me, my lady." I headed off to get the pasta.

I got the items quickly, floating on a haze of arousal. I was just trying to pick a steak for my dinner tonight when the skein of my mood was penetrated.

"Hey, baby, you miss me?" Brash, confident, certain that whomever she speaks to, they want to hear what she's got to say - my ex, Robyn. Robyn with a y, though that's not how either her passport or her parents spell it.

If beauty has a spectrum, it doesn't run from beautiful to ugly. Rather, beauty exists at both ends, diminishing towards the centre. Abigail exists at the far right of the scale (as the vagaries of my mind set it up), at the pinnacle of classical beauty, like an actress from Hollywood's golden age, or a very few of the modern stars, like Cameron Diaz. Moving left along the scale, we pass through towards the other end, past steel-minded women with faces of plastic and breasts of solid silicone, towards Robyn at the far left of our scale. Robyn was like a Monet painting - if all the components weren't present and exactly correct, she wouldn't work at all. But when the pieces come together, they sum into an almost painfully sensual earthy glory. She was shorter than average, maybe 5'4 and fleshy. Her breasts were colossal and entirely natural - my hands and tongue and cock had traced every square centimetre of their unblemished surface. They were capped with proportionally large nipples, crude and fiery red. The first time I took one into my mouth I almost hesitated, afraid it would burn, and, in a way, it did. They were remarkably buoyant, those globes - even without a bra, they only sagged a little. Judging by the way that they swayed at the moment, she currently wore no bra. Her pussy was large, thickly slathered with untameable coarse red hair, which she had never trimmed during all the time we had been going out. She thought that red hair against pale white skin was disgusting, so spent an hour a week at a tanning salon, exposing every part of her to bursts of ultraviolet light. Her ass, like her breasts, was huge and wonderfully smooth to the touch. A mane of curly red hair surrounded her face, whose features were broad and strangely undefined. Her mouth was a wide, thick smear of bright red, her nose a button bulb in the centre of her face, her eyes a non-textured brown. She was a year and change older than I was.

"Hey Robyn, how's it going?"

We had had an unceremonious break up. We had been together a few months, it had mostly been sex, and one day we just each acknowledged that we were bored. That was about half a year ago now. We had never really had much to talk about and, while I was still fond of her - how could you dislike a girl who, for your birthday, gave you a threesome with a girlfriend of hers - we hadn't had much contact since.

On my birthday, Robyn had cooked a meal for me at her flat. She was a terrible cook, but had managed to unevenly fry two steaks and some mushrooms. She had done some oven chips, but had somehow cooked them twenty minutes longer than the instructions said and the resulting hard black shards were more like anthracite than potato. For dessert we had mint sorbet which she took out of a Marks and Spencer box. Through the meal, her breasts were struggling to escape from a tube top that may as well have been paint on her body. She pulled the tube top down and her left breast popped out. She took the last spoonful of the sorbet and pressed it against her nipple, which hardened instantly. She smeared the ice cream in a small circle about her nipple, her body heat swiftly melting it. She beckoned me to dinner and I licked the sticky fluid off her breast. I was about to go to work more seriously when her doorbell rang. "Fuck it," I breathed, "Ignore it."

She wagged a finger at me and got up, pulling the tube top over her head, her breasts bobbing. She shook her hair and the resulting motion of her tits hypnotised me. "I think you'll be glad if I answer it." She let the person in, with her breasts exposed to the world.

Her friend, Michelle, walked in, saw Robyn half-naked and smiled. I made to stammer some sort of apology, but Michelle just said, "Party's already started, huh?" She shrugged off her jacket and threw it into a corner of the hall, then started undoing her blouse. Robyn placed an arm around Michelle's shoulders as Michelle's blouse began to gape further and further open. "Happy Birthday, Mike."

Robyn took my hand and then Michelle's. "Come on," she said, "let's take this into the bedroom." We headed through, and Robyn explained the rules: "Whatever happens, happens. Okay?" I nodded still stunned. Michelle said "yes" in a matter of fact voice. She finished undoing her blouse and dropped it to the ground revealing a vanilla bra, which she quickly unhooked. Michelle was one of those girls who, if you saw them on the street, you wouldn't mind fucking but wouldn't bother pursuing. She had a plain face and bleached blonde hair. Her breasts were small, but shapely and, I saw then, tipped with tiny, pale pink, almost pyramidal nipples. "You weren't lying about his dick, Robyn."

I looked down and saw the large bulge in the front of my trousers. I looked at Robyn quizzically and she smirked at me: "I told Michelle you had the biggest cock I'd ever seen." She came over to me and pawed at my crotch. "Let's show her, shall we." She roughly undid my fly and my belt, then yanked down my trousers and boxers in one swift tug. We stood there, all three of us. Two attractive girls, with their wildly different breasts exposed, one guy with a rock hard cock jutting perpendicularly from his body.

Michelle, enraptured, wrapped her long cool fingers around my cock and began to stroke, long and slow. I looked at Robyn, checking it was all right - she just smiled at me. "It's so beautiful," said Michelle, as my hands reached out and removed her skirt. She wore a pair of shiny black panties underneath, which I removed artlessly. She was still tugging on my cock and we were both startled by a sudden flash - we looked around and saw Robyn holding a camera to her eye. "Perfect," she said.

When my eyes had cleared I could see that, unlike Robyn, Michelle trimmed her cunt - her lips were shrouded in only the thinnest band of light brown hair. I placed one hand on her cleft and let my fingers play there as the other teased her nipples. She moaned and kept giving me a handjob. Robyn took a few more photos, then joined us. "Tonight," she said, "we're here for you."

She took off what remained of her clothes, revealing her by now familiar red bush. She lay on the bed. "Sit on my face," she said. I moved over, Michelle reluctantly breaking her grip, and did so. "Michelle, you suck him off while I lick his balls."

Michelle came over and began planting kisses along my shaft. Robyn's tongue played with my balls, licking one then the other, taking them into her mouth and sucking on them, first gently and then more sharply. By now Michelle had taken the head of my cock into her small, wet mouth and was sucking it greedily. Robyn, hearing me gasping by now, shifted underneath me and I felt her thick tongue lapping around my asshole. "Robyn," I said, desperate now, "at this rate, I won't last much longer." Michelle was taking more and more of my cock inside her - she had engulfed perhaps four inches, more than halfway left to go.

Robyn stopped licking my anus, "Baby - I'm surprised you've lasted this long. Relax, Michelle and I are here all night." She went back to work. Shortly after, I came, shooting spurts of boiling hot semen along all nine inches of my cock and down Michelle's throat. She swallowed it quickly, as if she'd choke if she let it build up.

Slowly I softened and she let me flop out of her mouth. I pulled her towards me and kissed her, my tongue forcing its way into the former home of my cock. I rolled over on to the bed and caressed one of Robyn's tits as she lay, her legs at my head, beside me.

"Baby, that's just the beginning. Are you ready to go again yet?" She rubbed a hand experimentally over my cock, which failed to respond to even her skilled ministrations. "Maybe Michelle and I'll put on a little show for you."

I lay in the middle of the bed, propped on the pillows, my muscles and my being relaxed the way only great sex leaves you. Michelle and Robyn knelt together at the foot of the bed, facing each other.

They lent towards each other, Robyn's tongue lolling out of her mouth, Michelle's rushing to meet it. They kissed sloppily, tongues lashing each other, storming from one mouth to the other with a hesitant violence. Gradually that hesitancy was lost and they grew even more aroused. Robyn's hands slipped to Michelle's breasts first, though there wasn't much difference in time. They pleasured each other, first playfully, then with a painful earnestness, their hands progressing down each other's bodies. They were nuzzling each other's breasts as their hands, trained by a lifetime's masturbation wrought shrieks of pleasure from each other's pussies. Finally they lay on the bed, sixty-nining, Robyn's tongue delving with pleasure into Michelle's well-trimmed pussy. Michelle seemed equally at home in Robyn's hairy folds. By now I was rock-hard, stroking myself almost unconsciously while watching this show.

I reached over to the bedside cabinet and got the lube from the drawer. I smeared it on my hand and began to probe Robyn's (who lay on top of Michelle) asshole, inserting first one finger, then two. We had had plenty of anal sex and, while at first she had had trouble encompassing my girth in her tight hole, she had grown used to taking me inside. I liberally smeared my cock with the lubricant and eased inside her. As her friend licked her out, I fucked her. The two girls came quickly, long before I was done, their moaning and shrieking muffled by each other's cunts.

I let myself slip out of Robyn's ass and she moved off Michelle. She watched as I placed my cock against Michelle's swollen lips, her cunt moistened by arousal and the saliva of my girlfriend. I pushed into her: her cunt was steaming with heat, dripping wet. It gripped my cock like a vice damped with velvet. She was unbelievably tight.

I grabbed the bed's headboard and used it to brace myself as I began to stroke into Michelle. As I fucked her I kissed her, then took her right nipple inside my mouth, lapping it with my tongue and sucking it. Robyn joined me at my not-exactly-arduous task, working on Michelle's left nipple. Together, we brought her to a screaming climax. After which Michelle and I went to work on Robyn.

We fucked each other constantly that night and the next day. We all napped occasionally; sometimes waking up with the three of us limbs entwined, sweaty and naked, sometimes waking to find someone pleasuring us. Both girls gave me entry to every possible orifice, both girls pleasured each other, sometimes one watched as I fucked the other - there was nothing we did not try. We even have photographs of it - I think we all took turns at being photographer.

For a week after, Robyn and I were spent - I don't know about Michelle. My dick was red raw and chafed, Robyn's pussy was the same, but more crucial than that, our sex drives had been sated - even though only temporarily. Perhaps a month after that, Robyn and I ended it - after such intense, unbelievable pleasure, there was nowhere left to go in a relationship as purely sexual as ours.

It seems odd that immediately after, essentially, making a gawky first date, I ran into a girl whose body is as familiar to me as my own. But, having not seen her for maybe six months, I run into Robyn in the supermarket - how banal.

We chatted about our lives for a while: "Oh you've just seen... how's she doing... they never!"

Strangely, Robyn seemed shy about something - "What is it?" I asked. How can a girl who has fucked your ass with a dildo be nervous of anything with you?

"Hey, don't be surprised or upset, but I'd like you to meet my partner."

"Why would I be upset? It's been six months, we've both moved on."

"Well..."

"Where is he?" I looked around, seeing no one except a guy in his late fifties in an overcoat, prodding a chicken like he expected to find signs of life. And a girl. Michelle.

Michelle put her arms round Robyn and gave her an easy kiss, the kind happy married couples give each other. It was the sort of kiss where the urge to sexually burn each other's nerves out has disappeared and merely the barest touch of your lover's skin is all you need.

The mild euphoria I had felt at finally making a date with my perfect Abigail now dissipated completely. The three of us kept talking, in the way the United Nations did on the second Gulf War - a lot was said, with nothing being said. Eventually we stopped, and went our separate ways.

I wandered the aisles, looking at products I would never buy, more time passing than I could believe when I checked my watch. As the soles of my shoes grazed along the linoleum floor was my ex-girlfriend fucking the girl we had shared at our three-some? And if so, so what? I had made them both come, as they had made me come. Intellectually I knew I was a good lover - I knew it wasn't about ramming a giant cock fast and hard into the girl's pussy, knew it was about communication. At its most basic, sex is like a game of co-operative Chess - your partner makes a move, gives you a signal, you just need to know the best way to respond. Not that there is no skill involved - the techniques must be learnt and practised, a wildly enjoyable task. So why did I feel so unmanned by this?

The way the two had enjoyed going down on each other now took on a sinister light for me - was it a brief respite, an island of pleasure before they had to go back to the dreary task of stimulating my big cock?

These thoughts playing in my mind, I went to Abigail's till and loaded my purchases onto the conveyor belt. She tried to flirt with me, but I could only summon up a fake smile and staid responses to whatever she said. As I left, she said, "until tomorrow, then."

"Looking forward to it." Fake smile and no desire. That night I went home and, instead of masturbating to fantasies of my dream girl, my cock stayed soft, dangling numb between my legs. This had never happened before: even when I felt no desire, I could still get it up, some nights even masturbating for more than half an hour before I came, just out of habit, once taking a girl who appealed to me not at all, but whose self-esteem needed the boost.

I slept fitfully at best, waking in the morning, not to my customary erection, but to a bed empty of desire. I slacked about most of the day wearing only the boxer shorts I slept in. I showered and shaved at the last possible minute and began cooking dinner, still thinking about my ex and the lover she had cuckolded me with while I was in the room- while I was in her.

The door went, and I let Abigail into my flat.

"Smells great," she said. A raw part of me suggested I say: "Thanks, it's my natural scent." Instead I thanked her mechanically and led her to my kitchen.

I cooked, we ate, we talked. It wasn't the talk of a guy and girl interested in each other, it was more like spending time with a friend of a friend who you don't particularly want to know. If Abigail weren't so perceptive, my life would be a colder place now. Don't expect some great insight - sometimes the smartest thing to say is the simplest. She said: "What's the matter?" And I told her.